Wrong Number
by bornonhalloween
Summary: A wrong number dialed in a panicked moment might just lead to HEA. Edward/Bella, sweet and fluffy with a dash of humor. Rated M for naughty situations.
1. Chapter 1

**WRONG NUMBER**

**~W#~**

"Have I told you lately how much I love you, B?"

Bella barely had time to press her index finger onto the page before the warm, hard, naked-but-for-a-jock-strap body crushed her in a bear hug from behind. Wrapping one muscled forearm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, Emmett planted a sloppy kiss on the side of her head. "This shoot rocks, Bella! I think it's gonna be our best ever!"

"Glad you and the boys are enjoying yourselves," she answered, one eye still on the page she'd read at least ten times over the last few months.

Emmett loosened his grip, pulled back just enough to see where her attention was. "Are you kidding me? You have to be the only chick on the planet who'd have her nose in a book instead of watching the Gifted Boys shoot their latest video!"

"Was there something you needed, Em?"

"Oh, I have everything I need . . . and then some." Emmett turned his head toward the two bowling alleys at the far end of the building, grinning as he surveyed the scene: seven lucky boys who had won a spot in the spring promo, dressed only in the skimpiest underwear and bowling shoes, huddled in two pairs and a threesome, locking lips and getting comfortable with each other as they settled in for the shoot. "You sure you don't want to bowl with us?"

Bella smiled. "Someone is actually bowling?"

The right side of Emmett's face lifted in a cute scrunch. "No, not really. A couple of them picked out balls, but then they got distracted with the finger holes, and . . . let's just say things went in a different direction." With his killer blue eyes and asymmetrical dimples, Emmett's face was as compelling as his gorgeous body. A fat lot of good it would do her, or any other woman.

After nearly two years on the job, Bella had learned not to want what she could never have. The work was professionally satisfying—certainly more interesting than working as a production assistant for her crusty boss at PBS—the boys were beautiful specimens, brimming with youth and passion, and her share of the endorsements paid off her student loans in a matter of months. All well and good for a career, but she was never going to find her Mr. Right on the job.

"Okay, boss. I'll let you get back to your boyfriend," he said with a downward glance at her book. "They're firing up the music and lights. Best _strike_ while the iron's hot!" Emmett's perfectly sculpted eyebrows danced as he laughed at his little bowling joke.

"_Spare_ me, McCarty!" she yelled over his retreating shoulder and the loud booming beat.

He gave her a too-cool-to-turn-around flick of his hand overhead, breaking into a bouncy jog toward the action. _Get your mind out of the gutter, girl. _Bella watched with a wistful shake of her head as the plump, exposed cheeks disappeared into the welcoming crush of hot bodies.

_Damn, this newest crop of boys was an enthusiastic bunch!_ Emmett was drawn in with heated smiles, eager tongues, and grabby hands. _When will I have my turn to be kissed with such passion? _Bella wondered.

_Tomorrow, _the tiny, romantic voice inside her squealed. Immediately, the practical side took over, quashing all hope that this once-in-a-lifetime photo op with Edward Cullen would bring her the outrageous outcome she only allowed herself to imagine in the most remote corner of her soul.

_Don't be a fool! _she chided, having seen firsthand how the fans of the Gifted Boys made utter and complete fools of themselves, fawning and cooing and asking to see their thongs "in action." Granted, her boys were only interested in other boys, and if the rumors about Edward were true, he not only enjoyed the company of women; he was quite the connoisseur.

_Fantastic! I'm sure I'm just what he'll go for: mousy, ordinary, pathetic fangirl who spends her days and nights with beautiful naked men who barely notice her. Yup._

Holding her spot three-quarters of the way down page 367, just at the point where Cork's angry tirade over Niagra's audacious bravery on his behalf turns into their first kiss, Bella flipped the back cover closed with a dreamy sigh.

Why did the man have to be so damn striking? She would have loved him anyway—and _did_, in fact—from the first descriptive passage of Niagra's lonely heart in the very first book in his sci-fi-rom-com series, _Planets Between Us. _She loved Edward Cullen long before Hyline Productions bought the rights to the movie, before the whole world fell in love with his characters—and very shortly after, with him. In fact, she was probably the only woman on _this_ planet who truly loved him for his mind.

_Damn his glowing emerald balls of fire for eyes and geometrically-chiseled chin and crazy fresh-out-of-the-sheets hair, and most of all, damn those fidgety, elegant fingers that always turned up in the most awkward places in pictures—zippers and back pockets and foreheads and napes. Damn the Facebook groups with his pictures plastered all over the place so that any undeserving girl with even minimally functioning lady parts would be drawn to him. _

_Damn all those beautiful girls who would catch his eye tomorrow instead of her._

"Now, now, Bella, you'll defeat yourself before you even say hello," her mother would have said. _And what would Charlie say?_ Bella smiled, even as her eyes filled with tears. She knew exactly what her dad would say. "Damn, I wish your mother were here. I stink at this girl stuff. Why'd she have to go and get sick on us?"

Before Bella could travel any further down Morose Boulevard, her cell phone vibrated in her back pocket. Turning away from the pounding din at the opposite end of the room, she paused to check the caller—unknown. _Fabulous._

_"__Hey, it's me. Listen, I just flew into town and went over to the house to pick up Mom, and she was lying on the floor clutching her heart! I had to call 911."_

"What? Who is this?" Bella's heart pounded fast and hard as she pulled the phone from her ear and looked again at the unknown caller. Area code 917? _Where the fuck was that?_ "Is this a prank?"

_"__Prank? No, Allie, it's me."_

"Allie? Hang on, I can't hear you. Just a sec." Running to the door, Bella pushed it open and burst into the relative quiet of the parking lot. "Okay, say again. Who is this?"

_ "__You've got to get down here. Now. I don't know if she'll last the night. Crap, this is so bad. See you soon."_

"Wait, I think you have—"

_"__Oh, we're at UCSF. Sorry, my head isn't right."_

"—the wrong number. Hello? _HELLO?"_

Shit shit shit shit! Somebody's mother was dying and she wasn't going to get there in time because this poor guy dialed Bella's number by mistake? How did shit like this always happen to her?

_Redial! Pick up . . . pick up . . . _

_Of course he's not going to pick up the unknown number because he's a sane person! If I had done the same, this guy would now be getting my voice mail and realize he'd made a terrible mistake. And now, I have no way to—_

_"__Hello?"_

The new connection was even worse than the first. Bella could barely hear him.

"Hey! You just called me! I needed to let you know—"

_"__Oh, Al. Great, it's you! I forgot to ask you to call Jazz and let him know I can't make Comic Con."_

"Comic Con? What? I can't hear you!"

_"__Sorry I'm whispering. I'm not supposed to be using my cell in the hospital. Messes with the equipment or something. Look, just tell Jazz what's going on. Bengela can handle the panel. Gotta go. Drive safe."_

"Wait!"

_Gone._

_Holy fucking shit! Comic Con? BENGELA? The blended star names of the leads in _Spontaneous Generation_, Edward Cullen's new movie? _

_I have to stop standing here staring at my damn cell phone and do something! Edward Cullen needs me! I am on a mission from almost-God!_

Setting aside the brush with greatness to savor after the crisis, Bella forced herself to recall what she knew: Edward Cullen was at UCSF Medical Center with his probably-dying mother; someone named Jazz was responsible for his appearance at Comic Con; his sister Allie needed to be notified that her mother was in critical condition.

Her phone shook like a leaf in a tornado as she attempted to open her Google app. The fact that her other hand was also shaking certainly didn't help matters, but after several failed attempts, she was able to type: "Edward Cullen agent Jazz."

_Please be listed. Please be listed. Please be listed_.

**About 7,810,000 results.**

"Crap! Damn you, Google! Shit! Think, Bella, think! Who do I know in the movie industry?"

Over the out-of-control beat of her heart, the music filtered through the closed door. "Duh! Of course! Garrett, Garrett, pick up!"

_"__This is Garrett."_

"Oh my god, Garrett! Thank God you're there!"

_"__Bella? What is it? Has something gone wrong at the shoot? Is someone hurt?"_

"Oh god, no. Sorry, I mean, someone is but not one of yours."

"_Okay, calm down, Bella. Take a breath. What's going on?"_

"I need your help. I just got the craziest phone call."

_"__From?"_

"From Edward Cullen."

_"__What? I am not following. Edward Cullen, the guy whose books are always tucked under your arm? Didn't he do the screenplay for that YA film Hyline is about to release?"_

"It's not YA! It's sci-fi-rom-com!"

_"__Fine, whatever. Why on earth would Edward Cullen be calling you?"_

"Gee, thanks, boss. That's just it, Gar. He didn't mean to. He dialed my number by accident. His mom was having a heart attack or something, and he was really out of it, and I think he meant to call his sister, and now she won't be able to see her mom before she dies, and it's all my fault for picking up my cell because it would have just gone to voicemail, and he would've known he had the wrong number and—"

_"__WHOA! Bella, you seriously need to breathe. Are you still at the Megabowl?"_

"Yes!"

_"__Okay, tell me the facts. How do you know it was him?"_

Garrett listened patiently while Bella dumped the facts as they came back to her, miraculously conveying enough that he could put together the pieces and come up with something resembling a plan.

_"__I know the PR guy for Hyline, Jasper Whitlock. Good guy. Let me make a couple quick calls. Sit tight."_

"Thank you, Garrett."

_"__Bella, promise me you're not going to operate any heavy machinery. Whatever you do, stay away from your car."_

"Yes, yes, I promise. Go! Make the calls! Call me back!"

Bella poked her head back into the building just long enough to make sure nobody was looking for her, then escaped again into the quiet night. Her stomach flipped and gurgled, an awkward combination of guilt, excitement, dread, and terror. Beneath it all, she was ashamed to identify a deep-seated disappointment that she wouldn't have her photo op with Edward Cullen after all.

_Shame on you, Bella Swan._

_Yes, I know. I don't deserve to call myself a fan._

Her phone shook in her already trembling hand. Another unknown number, this one area code 310. _Now what?_

"Hello? Who is this?" She gave herself a mental pat on the back for asking up front this time.

_"__Is this Bella Swan?"_

"Yes, and you are . . .?"

_"__My name is Jasper Whitlock. I got this number from Garrett Pace. Do I have the right party? This is an emergency!"_

"Yes, sorry, this is Bella."

_"__Okay, good. Garrett filled me in, and I just want to check my facts before I go calling Alice and getting her all ruffled. You can understand why I wouldn't want to scare the bejeezus out of my girlfriend if I've got my facts screwed up."_

"Of course." _Edward's sister is dating Hyline's publicist? _

_"__Garrett tells me Edward was trying to reach Alice to tell her that their mother is ill?"_

"Yes, they were at the UCSF Medical Center when he called. He said it was urgent, that she wouldn't last the night. I'm sorry," she added.

_"__Fuck, I was afraid of that, and Edward isn't answering his cell. This is not good. Okay, I've got to go."_

"Oh, Jasper, wait! Did Garrett mention Comic Con, that Edward said he wouldn't be able to make it?"

_"__That's the least of my worries right now. Thank you so much for making sure the information got to us. I really have to go."_

"Of course, of course. Yes. Good luck."

_Send Edward my regards. Give him a kiss for me. On the lips. Tell him I love him. Aw hell, don't let him be too sad. I'd hate for him to be sad._

Bella opened the door and walked back into the building, a ten-ton weight slung across her shoulders. And yet, underneath it all, there was the undeniable thrill: she'd spoken to Edward Cullen!

**~W#~**

* * *

**Author's Note**: The last 10,000 words of this story were donated to the _Disaster Relief Compilation,_ a project undertaken by the fandom to ease the suffering of the victims of the recent earthquakes in Chile and Nicaragua. When the blackout period ends in early September, I will post the remainder of the story here. Thank you all for your interest in the story.

Much love to **Ladyeire3** for helping mold the plot and characters around my very vague plot bunny, injecting life and humor into the story and the writing process, and gifting me with the beautiful banner. To my sweet Sue (a.k.a. **chayasara**), thank you for patiently moving my commas to where they belong from whence they did not and for keeping your eye on the loftiest of expectations while one foot is always in the gutter with me.

Thank you, also, to **Mina Rivera** and **Ana Fluttersby**, without whose giant hearts this compilation would not have happened. And to the amazing **Ysar**, a kind, generous, brilliant soul who does all the heavy lifting for the fandom. I hope to meet you one day, my mysterious friend!  
XXX


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: *WAVES* Hey! Remember this one? Chapter One was posted a couple months ago as a teaser for the Fandom Gives compilation. Today is the first day we are allowed to post our stories, so here is the first of five more chapters for your reading pleasure. Enjoy!**

* * *

**~WRONG NUMBER 2~**

_From the surreal to the sublime, _she mused, scanning the erotic scene before her. She had to hand it to Garrett and his brilliant methods. This fresh crop of Gifted Boys had been lifting weights and rehearsing dance routines and undressing and parading around together for three weeks now under their employer's strict no-touch, no-kiss, no-fuck policy—all leading up to this shoot. Of course, Emmett, being the sole long-term employee and crown jewel of the GB stable, was exempt from this rule, having made it quite clear long ago that he would quit rather than abstain for a three-week stretch. Bella always enjoyed the challenge of predicting which of the new boys Emmett would select. Naturally, being chosen by "The" Gifted Boy not only elevated one lucky rookie's status but also extended the special exemption by association.

Whether Emmett, his blond twink with the cute bubble butt, or one of the other six boys had arrived on set most eager to play, clearly the eight of them were firecrackers with their wicks standing on end and jonesing for a match. The action on set had definitely heated up since she'd stepped outside. Glow-in-the-dark confetti littered the wood lanes and clung to the sticky skin and hair of the writhing models. From the looks of things, the unmatched six had had no problems coupling up. Being an incurable romantic, Bella couldn't help her curiosity about how many would stay together for shoot number two and how many would decide to switch it up. Experience told her there would be plenty of experimenting before this crop of hot bods was through. _Boys will be boys._

Whether by design or necessity, each pair was situated in a different part of the set: two boys were rolling around on the hardwood alley between the gutters; another couple down at the end was making creative use of the bowling pins; a third pair was using the scoring table to project lewd imagery onto the overhead screen (_nice touch, _thought Bella); and Emmett's newest lover was ankle-wrapped around the giant stud's back, sloppy-kissing and twerking all over him. In short, Garrett's boys looked damn happy.

Snapping back into professional mode, Bella scanned for the director, who was checking with the camera crew, sound, and lighting; heads were nodding; smiles were widening. Garrett would be pleased with the results, and with any luck, they'd actually sell some underwear.

_Damn, it's hard to believe any of us get paid for this._

Between the hot lights and hotter action, a thick, sweaty, sex-den musk rose from the writhing bodies and permeated the air. The scene was fast approaching the do-or-be-done tipping point—a very good time for the only woman among a sea of over-stimulated gay men to find her way to the door, not that anyone minded being watched; it just made her feel intensely lonely and not just a little creepy.

Besides, Bella had far more pressing concerns tonight as she climbed into her A7. Her head was spinning with Edward's desperation, and his phone number was burning a hole in her pocket.

By now, hopefully, Allie had arrived at his side. The two of them were probably holding hands at their mother's bedside. _Would he be saying a prayer? Feeling guilty for not spending more time visiting?_

It would be inappropriate for Bella to call him back.

_Right?_

Maybe just a text, then.

_No, Bella. Too soon._

Damn her conscience. _Why can't I just be a crazy fangirl like the rest and rush over to that hospital with five dozen fresh-from-the-oven oatmeal raisin cookies and plant myself by the door? He has to come out eventually, right?_

_Yes, perfect. Catch him as he's coming out of the room where his mother has just passed on. _

Bella imagined wrapping her arms around the man, tear-streaked, wrecked, and desolate to his core. "_Here, let me comfort you," _she'd say.

_"__You're so beautiful and kind. Who are you?" _he'd respond.

_"__I'm the wrong number you called, but I'm more than that. I've loved you forever. I know your soul."_

"Hold me."

The blare of a horn jarred Bella from her fantasy, sending her heart racing as she realized exactly how far afield she'd drifted this time. Garrett was right; she wasn't fit to drive.

_I'll wait until tomorrow, call the hospital for a patient update on Mrs. Cullen, and go from there, _she decided. Sticking to her solid plan, Bella arrived home without further incident, tossed her pocketbook onto the table near the door, and sped through her apartment toward her sanctuary. Sinking into her well-worn, tan leather recliner, Bella set her gaze upon the contents of the shelf of honor: her personal Edward Cullen library and the photo collage Emmett had made her as a gag gift for her last birthday.

_"__Oh great! Yet another unobtainable man," she'd protested with the tiny portion of her that wasn't rendered speechless by the montage of godly perfection._

_"__You're welcome," Emmett had responded with a giant grin and a warm hug. "And yes, these are all from his photo shoots. No pap pics and none with . . . well, it's your birthday, so we won't mention you-know-who."_

_"__Nice, Em," she'd answered with a friendly dig of her elbow into his ridiculously tight abs, "as if you like her any more than I do."_

_Emmett had given her one of his adorable, eye-rolly-deep-dimpled smiles. "Hey, if the guy insists on dipping his brush in the v, there's only one paint can worthy, and that's yours, B."_

Bella sighed, a confused tangle of emotions playing tug-of-war with her heart: disappointment that she wouldn't be meeting her idol any time soon, exhilaration that she'd actually spoken to him on the phone, profound sadness for his loss, and a strange sense of pride in choosing for herself a hero of a man who was such a devoted son.

A loud banging on her door intruded on her fitful dreams. She bolted out of her cozy chair, confused and stiff and annoyed as hell. "Hang on! I'm coming! It's Saturday, for god's sake! What's so damn imp—_oh_!"

"So sorry, Miss Swan," the short, plump building manager was saying from behind an enormous bouquet of daisies in every imaginable shade. "The delivery boy made me promise to bring them right up."

"Thank you. Sorry, I didn't sleep very well," she babbled, "not that you need to know that. Anyway, thanks."

_Flowers? For me? _Bella ticked off all the important holidays and personal milestones but couldn't come up with a match with today's date.

"Well, happy birthday . . . or whatever," the manager added as Bella closed the door behind her.

_Edward Cullen sent me flowers! It's the only reasonable explanation! _she concluded, tearing into the envelope and willing her hands to stop shaking long enough to read the brief message:

**With deep appreciation for your kindness,  
****The Hyline team and the family of Edward Cullen  
****Jasper M. Whitlock**

_Jasper Whitlock_. Of course. Or the assistant of the assistant to his assistant. _What a beautiful gesture, _she offered her brutally disappointed soul.

_Not really working._

As she centered the glass vase on her kitchen counter, a happy idea struck her, and she dashed across her living room to dig out her phone—which, not having been charged last night, was now completely dead, along with her lifeline to Edward Cullen.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she muttered, zooming into the kitchen for her charger and poking the thing indelicately into the opening at the bottom of her cellphone. "Turn on! Here, apple, apple! Yesss!"

Bent over the counter, Bella opened her call log and carefully stored the two no-longer-mysterious numbers from last night.

_Jasper Jazz Whitlock, Hyline Pictures, PR Mgr. _

_Edward OMGOMGOMG Cullen! Writer-screenwriter-hottie._

Savoring the prospect of filling out Edward Cullen's profile with fun facts and ringtones, Bella instead opened the more practical of the two contacts and began typing a text to Jasper Whitlock.

This wasn't stalker activity; it was a thank-you note. _A thank-you note is always appropriate, _her mother would have urged. Sure, she was stretching the concept, sending a thank you note for thank you flowers. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sent the text, keeping everything uber-professional, just as she'd been taught:

**Mr. Whitlock:  
Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers. They were completely unnecessary. I'm so happy I could help, but of course, my heart breaks for the Cullens. (I am a huge fan and had been so looking forward to meeting Mr. Cullen at today's panel.) If you would pass along my heartfelt sympathy, I would be most appreciative.**

**Thank you so very much,  
****Bella Swan**

_Yes, it was too formal, too long, and too gushy, but what the hell, right?_

With a reckless tap of her index finger, the message was on its way. Setting down her phone, Bella forced herself to shower and was almost feeling human again by the time she returned to the kitchen to scrounge up something for breakfast.

Yogurt and spoon in hand, she settled onto one of the stools and swung her legs under the counter. When she was no longer able to continue her game of hard-to-get with her iPhone, she slid the thing in front of her and tapped the screen to life.

_One missed call._

It's probably Garrett about the shoot

, she lied to herself even as she opened the icon. Her heart pounded in her ears to the beat of _Edward Cullen has my number, _a rhythm she couldn't quite stop herself from hearing, no matter how hard she tried to push away the hope.

_Jasper Jazz Whitlock, _the log read. Not Edward, but close! She scrolled and tapped, praying he'd left a voicemail or at least a return text. _ONE_ _VOICEMAIL MESSAGE!_

"Holy shit!" The spoon clanked to the counter, forgotten along with her hunger. Bending low to the counter, she pressed her head to the charging phone while the voice of Edward Cullen's book's movie's production company's PR manager filled her ear with one miraculous word after the next:

**_Hi, Bella. This is Jasper Whitlock from Hyline. Sorry I missed you. Your text was so sweet. Please let me reassure you. Mrs. Cullen did suffer a massive heart attack, but Edward was able to get her help in time, and she is resting quietly now and expected to make a full recovery. As for that panel appearance, we'd like you to be our special VIP guest today, and of course, you'll have a meet-and-greet with Edward. He is most anxious to express his appreciation in person. That's 11 a.m. in the main exhibit hall. Just give your name at security, and they'll bring you right up front. I know Edward is looking forward to meeting you._**

"Holy shit holy shit holy shit!" She yanked the phone from the cord and replayed the message just to be sure her ears hadn't deceived her.

"OH MY GOD, holy actual shit!"

Glancing at her watch and doing some quick calculations, Bella figured she had about twenty minutes to pretend she had a clue what to do with her hair and make-up and HOLY SHIT, SHE WAS ABOUT TO MEET EDWARD CULLEN!

**~W#~**

* * *

**Author's Note:** Who knew that was coming? LOL! Hope you're enjoying this silly little story. All the love to Ladyeire and Chayasara for their invaluable, immeasurable help and encouragement.  
XOXOXO ~BOH


	3. Chapter 3

**~WRONG NUMBER 3~**

Racing around her apartment like a complete lunatic, Bella yanked on the navy tank dress with built-in boob shelf she'd planned on wowing Edward with, twisted her hair into a fairly sad, home-grown version of the updo she'd practiced in front of the YouTube video about a thousand times, and plunged her feet into the four-inch heels chosen with the romantic idea of bringing her lips that much closer to his. She blamed Edward for all of it; every detail was based on one of his crazy, unpredictable interviews or a passage in one of his books.

_I hope there is at least one kernel of truth in his fiction,_ she prayed as she stuffed the whole lot of Edward Cullen books into her environmentally-correct Whole Foods shopping bag. _Just in case,_ she reasoned.

Packed up and as primped as she'd ever get, Bella high-heel-tiptoed her way from the parking garage elevator toward her car.

_Click-clack. _No response. No headlights flashing, no happy-to-see-you-this-morning chirp. _Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, FUCK!_

"Okay, okay, not the end of the world. I have a dead battery in my key. I'll just open the door manually, put the key in the ignition, and . . ." _Nothing_.

"FUUUUUCK! FUCK! FUCK! OF ALL THE FUCKING DAYS! Damn you, car! Damn y—"

_Oh. _The front door was slightly ajar. _Gee, I wonder how I could have not noticed that, _Bella berated herself. Still, shouldn't the lights have turned off automatically? She peered in through the driver's window. The knob was switched to the "on" position instead of "auto" where she always, always, ALWAYS kept it.

_Must've bumped that with my knee on the way out! _"Fuck! double fuck!"

Burrowing through her purse, she located her cellphone. Triple A would never get to her on time, and she couldn't trust a taxi. When push came to shove, there was one person she could count on no matter what, and hopefully, he would forgive her for waking him up so damn early.

"What the FUCK, B? Do you know how late we were out last night? Crap! Now I've woken up Riley. Hey, gorgeous, while you're up . . . yeah, mmm, yeah, deeper, baby . . . Yeah, all is forgiven, Bella. Talk to you later." _Click._

_What the hell is it with men hanging up on me lately? _she wondered as she angrily redialed.

"EMMETT, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY! Get that boy off your cock, and get over to my apartment pronto! I need a jump!"

"Whoa, whoa! We really do need to get you laid, but you know I don't do girls, B."

"Oh my GOD, you are such an arrogant . . . _Ugh! _Never mind! I need you to jump my CAR! I have an important appointment, and my battery is dead!"

"Oh," he answered in a far-too-calm, not-moving voice. "Why didn't you say so? Hold on, this isn't your Comic Con thing, is it?"

"YES, and I need a jump! Please, Emmett, I am begging you."

"All right, girlfriend. Don't get your jock in a bunch. Emmett to the rescue. Sit tight."

"Emmett, please hurry. I can't be late!"

He showed up ten minutes later, waving her over to his Porsche, not a jumper cable in sight. "Hop in, babe. I'm not letting you drive in your condition. You're a menace to society. Damn, you look hot . . . for a chick."

"I love and hate you, Emmett!" Bella protested as she stuffed herself into the passenger seat.

Emmett's laughter filled up the small interior of his car as he pulled out of her apartment complex. "So what else is new?"

"Have you thought about how I'm supposed to get home? The taxi line will be around the block!"

"What time will you be done?"

"I don't know, two maybe?"

"Just call the bat phone. I'll send one of the boys if I'm tied up." His grin told her he had every intention of being tied up.

Could she really blame Emmett for making the most of his situation? Had she not fantasized about how things could go with Edward Cullen after that first hello? Despite her more angelic voice's insistence that her intentions were pure and chaste, that she wanted nothing more than to meld with his brilliant mind, she had to own up to imagining hard kisses and demanding hands.

"You might want to take a moment to gather yourself before you go in."

Emmett was staring at her with a combination of amusement and concern. Apparently, they had arrived, and even more apparently, her other-than-innocent thoughts were written all over her face, at least to her best friend.

"Thanks, Emmett. I appreciate this," she said, slipping her finger through the metal clip to open the door.

He reached over and put his hand on her knee. "Knock 'im dead, B. But not really. I mean, he's pretty hot, and I still have a little hope he's got some man-love in him."

"God, Emmett, has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?"

"Daily," he said, adding his famous wave as he zoomed away.

_10:53. _No time for deep, cleansing yoga breaths or last-minute changes of heart. This was happening. Now.

Pushing away a mountain of insecurities, Bella lifted her chin and marched with purpose—as much as she could in her fashion-forward, safety-backward shoes—past the long line of fangirls growing more impatient and desperate with each passing minute. Ignoring the, "Hey, who do you think you are?" and "Line's back there, bee-otch" calls, she grabbed the wrist of the first security guard she came across and spilled her story.

He scanned her with a cool, professional eye from the top of her makeshift bun to the heels of her too-high shoes, and for one terrifying moment, Bella was sure he wouldn't let her in—or worse.

"How fast can you walk in those things?"

"Not very," she admitted.

"The way I see it," he explained, "you have two choices. Try to keep up with me and hope these girls don't rip your head off on the way, or let me get you inside my way."

Something about his smirk told her she wasn't going to like either option. "Your way?"

Taking her question for an answer, he scooped her up so quickly, she barely felt her feet leave the ground. Then they were flying, or at least, she was. "Hang on!"

"Oh . . . my . . . god! She tightened her grip around the man's tree trunk of a neck and tucked her book bag against his chest. "Do you treat all your VIPs this way?"

They were inside now, running past the rows and rows of people who had walked to their seats using their own two feet, but he wasn't slowing down. "Friends of Edward get star treatment," the giant answered. "Here we are, row one." _Row ONE?_

He bent and tilted her body so that her feet slid gracefully to the floor. "Thanks for the lift!" she said, noting with dismay that she was far more breathless than her ride.

Giving her a little salute, the security guard disappeared into the crowd just in time for the emcee to start the show. For a woman who made a damn good living minding the production details most people would have missed—camera angles, props, continuity, the interplay of light and shadows—Bella watched the proceedings of the next ninety minutes with surprisingly little awareness of anything beyond Edward Cullen. Not that there wasn't plenty to pay attention to there: his ever-changing facial expressions, his quick-witted, balls-out-honesty, the occasional inappropriate-yet-highly-appreciative glances at Angela Weber's cleavage, those twitchy, always-wandering-where-they-shouldn't fingers, and the one feature that made Bella forget every single thing she ever learned in school—that smile that had about a thousand moods. Bella could have happily sat there for hours or days; the spell that man could weave without even trying!

_"__. . . And those of you who have purchased a photo op with Edward Cullen, please form a line just to the right of the stage."_

_This is it!_

Grasping the handles of her tote, Bella leapt from her seat and fought her way into the hostile knot. _How could all these people have gotten in front of me already? _In her mind, she saw Emmett laughing and shaking his head.

Bella craned her neck around the giggly girls blocking her view. _My God, he is so beautiful and shy and humble and perfect. _As Bella watched one lucky girl after the next step up close and have her carefully measured turn with Edward, her stomach curled and twisted into a tight pretzel-shaped ball of anxiety. _What in the hell am I going to say?_

Of course she'd had a meticulously prepared speech—Bella Swan was a woman who'd built a life and career on staging everything oh-so-carefully—but that was all out the window now.

"You're up next, miss. _Miss_?" Bella's attention snapped to an efficient, rail-thin blonde reaching for the book-filled tote. "We'll hang onto your belongings while you have your photo with Mr. Cullen. Would you like a hug or side-by-side pose?"

"I'm sorry, is that a trick question?" Bella asked, causing the woman to smile.

"Not exactly. The side-by-side tends to produce a clearer photo, but the hug is a hug, so . . ." she trailed off. "Okay, I think you just gave me your answer."

Bella felt a bony arm wrap around her waist as the woman pushed her forward, skillfully sliding the purse off her shoulder at the same time. "Three minutes. Remember to breathe," she said, just before giving Bella one last shove into the outstretched hand of Edward Cullen.

**~W#~**

* * *

**Author's Note:** EEEEP! SHE IS TOUCHING HIM! HE IS TOUCHING HER!

Funny, I hadn't really thought about it until the reviews started coming in (which is one reason I love this process so dang much) but in my very first story in only chapter 2, I DID kill off Esme. Hey, I had to! How else would little Edward have met his babysitter crush in _The Cliffs_? That was kinda ballsy, huh? *grins* No worries this time; she lives.

May I just say how WONDERFUL it is to see all of you people again? I know I've been in man-love world for a long time, and the timing of this posting fit beautifully with the wrapping up of my final tale in the KEA saga over on my blog. So, here we are again...a boy and a GIRL and yeah, a gay boy too, but he's not the central character this time! (And thanks a ton, AustenDevotee, for suggesting the Emmett-Edward side story, which is now churning in ways it has no business doing!)

This story was a fluffy escape for me when I wrote it, and now it is again when I read your lighthearted reviews. Thank you for your support and appreciation. It really means the world to me. See you soon! MWAH!

XOXO  
~boh


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